


Of green and home

by InvisiblePond



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-19 07:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29747325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvisiblePond/pseuds/InvisiblePond
Summary: The story about how Remus Lupin managed to get a little sense inside Sirius' head before that damned Octuber 31st 1981, ultimately saving him of making the most idiotic mistake he has made after almost kiling Snape. Twice.// Maurauders Era.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Kudos: 8





	1. Prologe

**Author's Note:**

> So, hi. This is my first fic and English is not my native lenguage. So please bear with me as I learn, I am trying my best. Grammar corrections, constructive criticism and beta readers are more than welcome so I don't screw this up. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Rowling owns things, I am just playing with her toys. Also, I do not support Rowling's disgusting transphobic views.

Sirius wakes up in darkness, the sheets moist and stuck to his body with sweat. Behind the only window the crescent moon shines dimly upon the unknown room, and for a few seconds he doesn’t know where he is. Eventually he remembers he is in his room at the Leaky Cauldron, blessed horrible place, and tries to go back to sleep. But some uncomfortable feeling starts spreeding, slowly waking him up.

Something is _wrong_. _Terribly wrong._ He can feel it somewhere in his stomach, under his center. A disgusting and freezing sensation, like a darkened water.

Then it hits him.

_James._

He can remember James’ house! The two story building, the garden, the windows, Jame’s grining face waving at him at the entrance. The address. The fucking address.

_Fuck._

The dread roaming through him then is so violent he all but jumps out of bed, wand in hand. In two strides he is yanking the door open and going down the stairs three steps at a time. Once out in the cold night air, finally outside the anti-apparition barrier, he disappears with a loud _crack._

But it is to late.

The adrenaline turns to gelid fear as he sees the green light of the mark floating aimlessly on top of the house. The time seems to stop, something sticky and thick running through his veins instead of blood.

As he runs towards the house he hears another c _rack_ behind him, but doesn’t stop to see who it is. He bursts the door open with his wand, and for a moment he expects to see James and Lily appear between the flames that come through. The smoke disorients him and he freezes. But then he hears Harry’s cry, and there is nothing more important at that moment than following that cry and finding James’ son.

Inside the house there is nothing more than flames and smoke. But he knows this house, he’s been living here since he was sixteen and now that the Fidelius Charm is broken, he can remember everything. Eyes almost closed because of the smoke, he goes directly to his right to the stairs.

And then James’ body is there. Laying in his back against one side of the stairs, almost as if protecting it. Sirius doesn’t need to crouch beside his friend to see death in his eyes, and something breaks inside of him. But the cries are getting louder, so he swallows everything and claims the stairs without looking at James. A part of him dies forever.

He is more prepared when he finds Lily’s body, her son still in her arms as they lay on the floor. But the child is alive and cries, cries like he knows what he had just lost. Sirius doesn’t think, doesn’t register anything else apart from Lily and her son. He moves forward, scoping the crying child from the floor, and darts outside the room. He does not look at Lilys body in the floor, nor to James lying on the stairs. He just get’s the fuck out of the house, crying baby in his arms.

For a couple of terrifying seconds he thinks he can’t breath. Everything is smoke and crying and noise and screaming voices he can’t recognize. His throat burns and his sight clouds, but he recognizes the hands in his visual field nearing Harry.

So he hands the baby to Remus, because he doesn’t know what to do with it and fears something is wrong with him and Remus always knows what to do.

Someone conjures a chair as his legs fail him. Remus, probably. The chair catches him and he grabs his head between his hands, elbows sinking in his knees almost painfully. Despair consumes him.

When he can breath again and the absolute _pain_ he feels dissipates a little, his minds gets clearer and the remembers. _Peter. Of fucking course this was Peter._

There is nothing in Sirius mind aside for finding and killing the son of a bitch. Immediately.

A hand grabs his forearm. It is Remus again. Pacific, calm, soothing Remus. Fuck that. Fuck everything. Sirius opens his mouth to protest, to tell him to fuck of and go to fucking kill that _rat_ , but there is something in his friends eyes he was never seen before.

Rage.

Seeing his own pain and sadness in Remus’s eyes stops him. Sirius feels like the air escapes from his lungs abruptly, his strength going with it. Remus shakes his head. And then is when Sirius breaks, falling into his friend’s arms and crying his soul out.

Remus waits as he screams and cries, and at some point starts silently crying too. Sirius doesn’t know which of them is shaking violently, but thinks is probably him. After what seems to be years, he lets go and tries to clean his face with his shirt. But he is not wearing a shirt, or shoes for that matter. Remus seems to know what he is thinking.

\- You gave your shirt to Harry when you carried him out. He is there, at the corner… Poppy is checking on him.

Sirius thanks silently to his friend, not trusting his words.

Poppy is, in fact, casting more the diagnostic Sirius has seen in his entire Hogwarts years. Around her, at least a couple of dozen aurors are trying to extinguish the flames. Minerva and Albus are with her, the yellowish glow of the diagnostic spells casting somber shadows on their faces.

\- Is he ok? What is wrong with him? – His voice gets out rough and nervous, his throat still sore because of the smoke or the screams or maybe both.

The all look at him, but it is the medi witch who answers.

\- He is fine. He just… has… this scar on his forehead. But I can’t seem to be able to find anything amiss with the boy.

The relief Sirius feels is violent. He doesn’t register what it is said to him then, but suddenly the child is in his arms and the world starts turning again. As he watches Harry’s sleeping face, he is struck by the certainty that he will spend the rest of his life protecting this boy. Fuck Peter fucking Petegrew. Sirius is not stupid enough to risk Harry's safety by going after him now. Damn, he has no fucking time to be wasting it in a rat and Merlin be his fucking witness he is going to protect James's son even if it is the last thing he does. Even if it means launching himself at top speed to parenthood having no clue of what he is doing. He is not alone, after all. 


	2. Remus has friends

Eleven-year-old Remus Lupin is curled up in a corner of his train compartment, pretending to read _Hogwarts: A History_ for the second time.

He is not alone, and that’s why he is pretending to read instead of actually reading.

Is not as if he doesn’t want to make friends at Hogwarts, he is just to shy and awkward to introduce himself and participate in the conversation the two other kids in his compartment are having. Also, to be honest with himself, he has no clue about how to talk to other kids his age and is currently having an acute episode of imposter syndrome.

After all, he is not like the other kids. He is not even _a kid_ ; he is a werewolf, a dark and hostile creature that is not supposed to be in such a small space with others. Surely someone will realize it at some point, just how dangerous he really is. Of course, Dumbledore had assured him the school had the means to _contain_ him should something happen during a full moon, but Remus had yet to encounter a room capable of holding him for more than one of those nights.

Anyhow, he is not supposed to be there. So better make himself small and invisible, and try to learn as much as he can before they kick him out.

But being invisible is proving quite difficult at the moment, and he can’t avoid to overhear with unrestrained interest the conversation the two boys are having. The seem to be of his same age, their uniforms and shoes as new as his own. One of them as a messy brown bowl cut with strands going in all directions, giving him a kind of mad-scientist look. He also wears huge round glasses, and his skin looks tanned and healthy. Not like Remus’s, whose pale skin is full of scars. His name appears to be James.

The other boy, whose name Remus hasn’t heard yet, looks elegant and rich. He has smooth black hair with fancy locks touching his shoulders, and a face as pretty as a girl’s. Remus can’t avoid to notice the strange and pompous way he talks. He must come from money, or be incredibly well read to be using all those fancy words. Weirdly enough, he finds that he likes it. It’s funny and pleasant, like the way characters speak in novels. He also appears to be more expressive and loud that anyone Remus has ever meet, but probably that is the way normal kids behave. The other kid, James, doesn’t seem to find it strange.

Just as he thinks that, the boy stops talking and looks at him suddenly, flinging dramatically his untamed mass of black curls and offering his hand with a smile.

 _-_ Sirius Black, enchanté. And you are?

Remus feels his heart stop and then suddenly start beating again loudly and painfully in his chest. He was staring! He was caught staring! Shame flows through him like cold water, his face hot.

\- Ah, Remus -he manages. But then, suddenly, what the other boy said registers in his mind and he can’t help himself- Wow! Sirius like the star?

Sirius smiles widely at that, his face changing with excitement.

 _-_ Yes! Ah, someone who understands at last! My new friend here, Jame-sy, doesn’t understand how utterly magnific I am and thinks I am being sorted into Slytherin! Preposterous! But yes, yes, Sirius like the shining star I am! Like the wonderful speckle of light I am among the dark and blackened blood of The Ancient and Most Noble House of--…

A sudden thud interrupts him, the compartment door sliding open as a small blond boy steps inside.

\- Sorry, can I sit here? All the other compartments are full -says the boy, sitting beside Remus before they can answer.

He looks almost as a pale as Remus, and his face is round and chubby. He looks way younger than them, and for a moment Remus thinks they boy must had taken the wrong train. But then he notices he is wearing the same uniform as them, so he must be also a first year. He says his name is Peter, and without knowing how Remus finds himself actively talking and laughing with the other boys.

As the time goes on in the train, Remus has plenty of time to study his new classmates. James is a really nice guy, with an honest smile and an unexpected sharp mind. He knows almost all the books Remus has read, even if he didn’t finish any of them. But he is fun and it is easy to like him as he is weirdly honest and straightforward. He is a natural leader, and Remus feels at ease with him.

Peter is also a nice kid, but quite impulsive and hard to read. At first glance he seems to Remus like an easygoing fellow, with a really meek and passive personality. But with time he realizes he is also a curious and shameless boy.

Sirius is more complex, he thinks. He has those grey eyes that seem to know too much for his age, and Remus has the distinctive feeling he knows what pain is. Like, real pain. Maybe not as much as Remus knows, but he knows. That makes him feel somewhat connected to him. It could be strange at first, to feel connected to such an outgoing and sociable person he being so sheepish himself. Sirius is loud where Remus is quiet, and free where he is shy. But he talks in a really funny way and Remus likes it, makes him laugh. And he looks at him like he understands him, so he decides he likes feeling close to him. Even if it is in a really strange way and he is weirdly pretty and he doesn’t know what to do with that.

They talk and laugh until they get out of the train, the night already over their heads. A really tall person guides them towards a huge lake then, and they get into small boats. The lake is mesmerizing, the dark waters reflecting the stars like a mirror. Remus feels like he is in a dream, and even Peter, James, and Sirius keep quite during the time they are in the boat. The cold night air feels soothing against Remus’s skin, and note before long they reach a magnificent castle full of warm yellow lights and the soft sound of wind rustling through trees.

A severe-looking woman with a strong Scottish accent receives them at what seems to be the front gates of the castle, her pointy hat the same dark green of her robes. Remus follows the rest of the first years, and the woman guides them to a small room with a door leading to the Great Hall. There, Remus waits his turn with the rest of his classmates. Still mesmerized with the pretty lake and its glass-like shimmer, he doesn’t realize what is happening until his turn is up.

 _-_ Remus, Lupin -says a voice, and he awkwardly steps inside the Great Hall to be momentarily stunned with the candles and the dark clouds in the ceiling.

A few months ago, after Dumbledore had personally appeared in his house and convinced his parents that schooling was in fact possible for their lonely and cursed son, Remus had received from the Headmaster a new copy of _Hogwarts: A History_. Because Hogwarts had never really been an option for the Lupin family since he got bitten, he had been avoiding that particular book for as long as he had known his father had a copy in his personal bookshelf. But since reality had apparently decided to suffer an 180° change, Remus decided to spent the rest of his summer reading said book and trying to prepare himself for the outside wizarding word. Because of that, he had thought he had quite a good mental image of the castle… Now, under the enchanted ceiling of the huge Great Hall, he feels overwhelmed and deceived by the book. There is no way _this_ was what the book described just as “a quite big and ancient dining hall with four long tables, each for one of the four Houses”.

The few illustrations of the book definitely didn’t make justice to the space. First, the ceiling was _huge_. Remus had never been in a room of this size and it was stunning, even without the sky occupying the space the ceiling was supposed to use. And the walls! The thick cold stone walls where just by themselves overpowering.

But Remus doesn’t have the time to get overwhelmed now, no matter how mystifying the room is. Just a few steps away, a battered and dark pointy hat awaits him on top of a wooden stool. Remus had read about it too: it’s the Sorting Hat.

No one knows how old the hat really is, but Remus remembers it has its own chapter in the book. Preparing himself for what is coming, he walks the remaining steps and sits in the stool. Everything goes black when the Hat lands on his head.

 _Oh, such a lovely mind -_ says a rusty voice in his mind.

_Where should we put you? Ravenclaw? You certainly have the brains for that. Slytherin, if not? There is certainly cunning and subtlety enough…_

Remus hears the Hat delivering inside his head, and his worst fears resurface. What if the Hat puts him in Slytherin? He knows that house is quite prejudiced regarding race, but where else could a dark creature land if not there?

Or, worse: what if the Hat rejects him because of his curse and refuses to sort him into a House?

 _Ah, I see_ -comments then the Hat- _you don’t wish to be seen as just what life has made of you. A brave heart indeed, drown in the desire of attachment and safety._

_Be strong, young lad! Because you belong in GRYFFINDOR!_

The roar of applause is warm and Remus slides down the stool still trembling. Gryffindor? It could have certainly been worse, even if he had never regarded himself as brave or strong.

When he sits at the end of the table, he realizes Sirius is already there. We looks absolutely elated, and Remus remembers how he had told them in the train about his family tradition: every Black has always been a Slytherin.

 _But I refuse! -_ Had screamed the other boy, his fist in the air – _I absolutely loath the idea of continuing with dear Mother and Father’s dark tradition! I will bring the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black to the light!_

At that time, just a few hours ago, Remus hadn’t really paid him much attention. But now, as he grins at him from his side, he thinks that this kid must be ridiculously brave. He sure knows he would not be brave enough to go against his parents like that. And he can almost hear the curses two older girls are throwing in their direction from the Slytherin’s table. From their handsome faces and the black curls of one of them, Remus guesses they must be members of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. Just thinking about it makes him shudder, but then the ‘P’s come and he is distracted by James and Peter getting sorted into Gryffindor too.

Honestly, Remus can’t believe his luck. They are all in the same House!

After the banquet (Remus had never seeing so much food in the same place) they were led by an older student to the Gryffindor Common Room and informed of the rules. Next day was Monday, so the first years were encouraged to sleep early and not be late to their first day of classes. Even though he feels too exited to rest, sleep gets to him as soon as his head touches the pillow.

The first week is as exiting as Remus had thought it would be. They had seven mandatory classes; Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, History of Magic, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Astronomy, and Herbology. He finds out pretty early on the week he is quite good at Charms and Transfiguration, but the other classes are all interesting and stimulating.

Having lived only with his parents in a small cottage in the woods for most of his life, the castle was the most absorbing place he had ever been. He and his friends spent the first days exploring the castle and then the outside grounds, and every time they find something new and remarkable. The classes are also full of new knowledge, and Remus thinks he has never been so happy before.

Then the first full moon came.

As he had explained to his parents on the summer, Dumbledore had arranged for him to spend his full moon nights at an abandoned house just outside the castle grounds called the Shrieking Shack. Remus loves it instantly. It is as far away as he needs it to be to be safe for everyone, but not too far he may start to transform before arriving. Also, someone had planted a Whomping Willow in the entrance to the tunnel leading to the house, which is a very violent and old sentient magical plant. According to Dumbledore, the tree would attack anyone and anything that came near it, keeping any wandering student at a safe distance from Remus. And also Remus safe from them, which was something he had never thought about. Besides, the house itself doesn’t have any doors or windows to allow entry or exit; the only way to access is through the tunnel under the Whomping Willow. So, in the end, quite a safe place for him to transform.

Back at home his father had built a special room from him in the backyard when he got older enough to break his bedroom door, with concrete walls and thick bars in the windows. But before long the wolf found a way to scape it almost every time, and his father had been forced to focus in protecting the house instead of keeping him locked up.

The full moons had always been violent and intense for Remus. The pain had always been excruciating, his body twisting in unnatural ways to accommodate his changes. And he would usually wake up bloody and injured in some unknown place deep in the woods near his house, sometimes surrounded by half eaten rat corpses and once even a dead rabbit.

In the begging, those first transformations, Remus had experienced a mild semi-conscious state and had retained some of his memories when he woke up. But as the years had gone by the wolf had started to get more violent and erratic, even starting to injure itself trying to escape. Just last year Remus had woken up to find that the wolf had tried to eat his own paw and had severely damaged the limb in doing so. The animal corpses had also been increasing with time.

Hogwarts’ medi-witch, Madame Pompfrey, came to retrieve him and patch him up the first morning and every full moon after that. There were of course limits to what she could do with the scars, as been a magical creature made healing magic work different on him; but he was grateful for her efforts. Being a muggle, his mother had never been able to heal him after those nights. She could just hold him and give him company, but he had always been acutely aware of how much pain his wounds gave her.

Because he always had wounds and scars the next day. It was part of the process of transformation; a lot of bones had to break and a lot of muscles had to rip, and he usually ended up hurting himself one way or another in those moments of pain. Considering that, it should not have been a surprise for him that his new friends eventually noticed the new scars and the infirmary trips after those nights.

That’s why today, when he notices he is being followed through the castle, he thinks he should not be really that surprised. It’s the first moon after the Holidays, and he had just exited the library and is mid step on one of the changing stairs when he notices it: a familiar smell of sweat and nervousness.

He knows it has to be one of his friends, but his pursuer is too far away to be able to discern if it is Sirius or James. He is quite certain it can’t be Peter, _that_ smell would be easy to recognize even at this distance. The boy had an intense fear of water, even the one safely coming out of tubs and showers. But he is sure is one of the other two, and keeps walking deliberately slow in full alert waiting for the right time. He manages it, and as he steps on the floor feels the stair starting to move. He glances back and hears a small squeak, and thinks he sees a small shadow hide in a corner on top of the stair.

With his heart thumbing wildly in his chest, he takes a detour and uses one of the secret passages he had discovered a few days prior instead of his usual route. Eventually he stops hearing steps behind him, and the smell disappears.

He arrives at the Whomping Willow almost out of breath, the path he took being a little longer than the usual one. He has two minutes till the transformation starts, he can already feel his skin tingling and his limps starting to ache. Not having time to check if the pursuer is still near him or if someone is watching, he lifts a rock with his wand and touches the small notch at the base of the tree to make it stop moving and crawls inside the tunnel.

His transformation starts just as he enters and hears the tree move again violently.

It’s one of the worst nights he has had until now. The transformation itself is painful and uncomfortable, and he can feel his muscles flaming with pain as his bones break reshape themselves. His spine curves and cracks, and he half screams half growls as his body changes. And then, everything goes black.

He wakes up the next morning in the cold tunnel, feeling dirty and damp. He’s facing up, back against the dark and rough stone of the floor. As he tries to move, he notices both his arms are dislocated, one of his knees hurts like hell, and at least two of his ribs are broken. And there is something sticky around his head and in his face that smells like blood. He really hopes its his own blood. Just before fainting again he thinks it could have been worse, he could have gotten out.

* * *

When he wakes up again he is in the infirmary and the curtains are closed. As he returns to consciousness, noises and smells start to filter through his mind. He smells the sheets of the infirmary, the potions in the shelves, the dark wood of the door. He feels more than hears at least two other people in the adjacent beds and one bigger person moving around, probably Madame Pomfrey. Even with his weirdly enhanced senses, sometimes he doesn’t really know how he is perceiving things; but he is certain one of the beds is occupied by a sick girl and the other by an injured boy.

It is probably past noon judging by the light filtering through the white courtains. Madame Pompfrey seems to be making beds in the other side of the long room, the sound of rustling sheets soft in the eerie silence. Remus closes his eyes and concentrates in his own breathing, making a mental inventory of his body. His dislocated shoulders seem to be healed already, and he feels a dull ache in his muscles and joints. Breathing is hard; probably the broken ribs. He was lucky to not have punctured a lung, the thinks. His right knee feels funny, like a huge spongy bruise hot with blood. He tries to move it and feels it is bandaged. His head also hurts, a throbb echoing between his ears. His face feels tingly too, from his left eye to the right side of his nose. Maybe another scar? He lifts his hands and traces his own face, and there it is, yes. He recognices the rigged edge of a scar across his face. Great. He must look like the freak he is. He wonders where else he had hurt himself this time, recgnocing the familiar tension of new scars across his chest and his neck.

And then he hears the door creak and three familiar scents float to him. His friends. He immediately starts to panic.

In all the time he had known them, they had never visited him in the infirmary after a full moon. Not because they didn’t want to, of course, but because they were not supposed to know he was there. Of course, a couple of times they had known he had been in the infirmary, but he had told them it was just a cold and that had been all. The scents approach and he starts to hear some muffled words from their direction. Suddenly scared, eleven-years-old Remus pretends to sleep.

Nevertheless, he still _feels_ the scents and the voices come closer to his bed at a slow pace, like they are crawling across the floor. He thinks he hears their clothes against the stone floor. The idea seems ridiculously possible, and he almost lets out a terrified laugh. Of course they would sneak in the infirmary at a weird hoyr instead of just using the front door when allowed to visit.

\- Are you sure about this? -whispers James- I did skip practice for this.

\- No, I am not -whispers Sirius in return, he sounds almost out of breath- But best to check it out, right? He wasn’t in his bed at night and he didn’t show up to breakfast.

Well, that explains how they decided to look for him the infirmary. But, wasn’t one of them following him last night? He was sure he had smelled one of them. Also, this was not the first time he had skipped breakfast.

But if Sirius was telling the truth, and he didin’t have a reason to think otherwise, then probably he was the one who followed him. What had he seen?

He hears the curtain to his right get open, and he stiffs underneath the sheets. He doesn’t know how bad he looks, but the surprised gasps and the absence of movement tells him all he needs to know. They almost stop breathing for a second as they contemplate what must be a horrific scene.

A small and cold hand touches his right shoulder, making his skin crawl and his heart skip a beat. The hand just stays there for a second, and something weird stirs in Remus’s chest. He almost opens his eyes, but then the hand is gone and he is alone.

_Fuck._


End file.
